


Breakthrough

by idiotbrothers



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Brian/Justin and Ben/Michael, Confrontations, Fix-It, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotbrothers/pseuds/idiotbrothers
Summary: Set sometime after Brian's attempted apology for his drunken tirade at Michael and Ben's house. Brian puts his ego aside and works toward healing an old wound.





	Breakthrough

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that I'm extremely late to the party. I can only hope that the 2.5 people who are also browsing the Brian/Michael tag 13 years too late happen to read this and enjoy it.

_Fuck me, Brian,_ Michael said, gazing up at him intently.

 _I’ve never wanted anyone more than I’ve wanted you. Please._ Michael unbuckled his belt and sidled closer to Brian, stroking a hand over his spine. _Please, Bri._

Brian kissed him softly, cupping the back of his head and reaching down between them to undo Michael’s fly.

His hand was suddenly hovering in empty space, grasping blindly through a void... and that was when he opened his eyes, the sound of a jackhammer pounding pavement somewhere outside waking him up abruptly. 

“Fuck!”

Brian dragged a hand down his face and clenched his jaw, irritated and turned on and, much as he hated to admit it, lonely.

He needed to do something about his boner, but he just lay there staring at the ceiling of the loft for a few minutes, his eyes itching.

He fucking missed Michael.

Trying and failing to put that thought out of his head, Brian started to jerk off, his mind wandering to places he wished it wouldn’t. 

* * *

 

“Bri, are you okay?”

Brian looked up hopefully, disappointed to see Ted standing over him. Brian was sitting on the curb just outside of Babylon, having stumbled out drunkenly and lost the energy to move much further away.

“Fuck off, Theodore,” Brian grouched, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and considering lighting it. Ted crouched beside him.

“Had too much to drink? You know, at our age- " 

“Don’t,” Brian said warningly, his voice venomous. Ted held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Touchy.” 

Brian turned out his pockets. “You got a light?”

“Ah, no. Sorry.” Ted looked genuinely contrite, for some reason.

“Useless.” Brian tucked his unlit cigarette behind his ear. “That place makes me sick,” he said, without preamble.

Ted blinked. “What place? Surely you don’t mean Babylon?” 

“Everywhere I look, all I see is him.” 

Ted nodded slowly. “Justin?” 

“Michael,” Brian corrected. 

“You still haven’t made up with him.” 

“Bingo.” 

Ted sighed. Much to Brian’s annoyance, Ted took a seat next to him, unfolding his legs. “The two of you have fought before,” he offered. 

“Not like this,” Brian said curtly, shutting his eyes and tipping his head up to the cool night air, the muted _thumpa-thumpa_ emanating from Babylon feeling like a distant memory. Like the emotion in Michael’s eyes when they danced together amidst the throngs of men, love so time-tested and unconditional that Brian had taken it for granted. 

“Have you apologized?” 

Brian gritted his teeth, opening his eyes and fixing them on a murky puddle half a foot away from them, the moon reflected on its dirty surface. “I tried. He wasn’t buying it. I guess after so long, he’s finally gotten sick of me.” Brian’s throat closed up around his last sentence, and he rubbed a hand over his mouth, anger and longing warring in the hollow of his chest.

“Besides,” Brian spat, anger winning out, “He doesn’t think he owes _me_ an apology. Which is fucking bullshit.” 

The skepticism was thick in Ted’s voice when he answered. “Does he?” 

“Fuck you, why am I telling you any of this? You don’t know shit about me and Michael.” 

“Be that as it may, I know _Michael_ ,” Ted asserted. “Trust me, I know him. I was in love with him for years, remember?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, that.” 

“Yeah,” Ted said, “ _That_. And I know there’s no way in hell he’d cut you out of his life unless you did or said something colossally fucked up.” 

“He’s forgiven me for worse before,” Brian said, though his voice faltered a bit. He wasn’t as confident in that claim as he’d like to be. 

“Look, Brian, I know you’re used to Michael always coming around to your side, always being there to make excuses for you and assure everyone that _it’s just how he is_ , over and over again. But we’re all getting old.”

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but Ted quickly talked over him. “Spare me the insecure posturing. We _are_. And you had to know that you couldn’t lead him on forever, that eventually, he’d find someone else and make a life with him. And that when he did, you hanging around and teasing him with the idea of  _more_ , but never actually offering him what he’s wanted forever, was gonna be too much for him to deal with anymore. He’s trying to move on. Why won’t you let him?”

Brian frowned deeply, his heart aching. He attempted to sound flippant when he finally spoke. “You sound like Debbie. Suddenly everyone and their mom’s a fuckin’ psychoanalyst.” Ted said nothing, and Brian dropped his facade of unaffectedness. 

“So what are you saying? I should just let him stay mad at me? I fucking tried that before. Didn’t work out so great.” 

“I remember. All I'm saying is, if you wanna repair your friendship, you need to relieve him of this illusion that someday, somehow, you’ll come to your senses and decide to be with him.” 

Brian twisted his bracelet around on his wrist, pulled on the strings so that it was biting into his skin. “He’s pissed at me because I insulted his lifestyle, called into question his precious bond with his perfect, holier-than-thou husband. Not because I promised him something he can’t have, or whatever.” 

“You were _always_ promising him something he couldn’t have,” Ted said calmly. “Every time you kissed him in a way that’s unheard of for most friends, or showed up at his doorstep late at night, or got all possessive when he started dating someone new. The subtext was always there, and it was obvious to anyone who knew you both.”

Brian scoffed, interrupting him. “You make it sound like I’m some conniving asshole, intentionally twisting him around my finger. If I feel like doing something, I do it. No ulterior motives. C’mon, Theodore, don’t you know me at all?” 

Ted made eye contact with him. “Enough to know that you’re lying about that,” he said. “Even the great Brian Kinney has moments of weakness.”

Brian forced out a mirthless laugh. “Okay,” he drawled, “Connect the dots for me, then. Infinitely wise as you are, you’ve surmised that the actual reason Michael doesn’t want to forgive me this time is that after so many years, he’s coming to terms with the fact that I won’t fuck him.” Brian paused, looking to Ted for an affirmation, which he gave in the form of a wince and a grudging half-nod. 

“If that’s true, then why...” 

Brian trailed off, realized that he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. _Why’s he with Ben, if he still wants me? Why did he essentially spit in my face by getting Canadian-married to him? Why’s he so goddamn insistent on clinging onto his prissy little charade of domestic bliss? Why did he give up on us?_  

“Brian,” Ted continued hesitantly, after a minute had crawled by, “Did you ever stop to think that, maybe, he could be... _happy_ , without- "

“Without me?” Brian couldn’t keep the outrage he felt from bleeding into his voice. 

Ted outstretched his palms placatingly. “Without the notion of a future with you hanging over his head, just out of reach. If you want to keep him around, you need to start being honest with him. Because this time, I think he’d really be able to walk away from you for good. He has his own life now.” 

“What would I do without these little therapy sessions,” Brian said scathingly, distantly wondering what time it was, how long they’d been sitting outside in the cold and dissecting Brian’s relationship with his oldest and dearest friend. In the club behind them, the party raged on, frenzied and uncontrollable debauchery, cordoned off from the rest of the world. 

“He needs me,” Brian said, like a plea. His head spun a little; the alcohol in his blood, his lack of sleep, and a sudden swell of desperation catching up with him all at once. 

Ted shook his head instead of replying, and Brian knew he wanted to say, _No, you need him_. Fucking Ted. 

“He doesn’t know what’s good for him,” Brian insisted. “You wanna know who’s better off without me? Justin is. _That_ kid needs his own life; he’s got too much of it left to waste it dreaming of wedding vows and white picket fences with some douchebag who took advantage of his naïveté. It was a _relief_ when he finally realized that I could never give him what he wanted.”

Ted raised his eyebrows, presumably surprised at the indication that Brian was more self-aware than he appeared.

“But Mikey’s different. He knows me better than anyone else ever will. He’s never asked me for anything more.” 

“Not outright, anyway.” 

“Whatever,” Brian snapped. “He loves me. And I fuckin’ love _him_. That should be enough.” 

Ted gave him a sort of sad look. 

“When you do talk to him again,” he said, “Just, please... be honest with him, for your sake, and his. Hell, tell him what you told Justin. That there’s never gonna be anything more between you. It’s your best shot at fixing things with him.” 

“What, so he can run back to his loyal hubby and never see me again? Brilliant suggestion.” 

Ted placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Do you seriously think the only reason he’s stuck with you this long is that he’s in love with you?” 

Brian averted his eyes from Ted’s and shook off his hand, grunting an ambiguous, monosyllabic response.

“If you believe that, you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Ted said conclusively, then stood up, groaning as he stretched his arms. He dusted off the seat of his pants and glanced at Brian once more before he turned to leave. “See you at work tomorrow, Boss.” Brian took that to mean, _It’s late, you should go home and get some rest_. 

“You know, Theodore, you don’t have the tact for therapy. You should stick to numbers.” 

Ted waved him off and walked away, leaving Brian sitting there by himself, gazing up at the sky to pick out stars through the heavy clouds and the light pollution, conflicted thoughts echoing painfully through his head. 

* * *

 

“We need to talk,” Brian said, ambushing Michael in front of Red Cape Comics the very next morning.

Michael startled, nearly dropped his coffee. “Jesus, Brian,” he hissed, “It’s seven in the goddamn morning. Shouldn’t you be heading to work?” He fumbled his keys for a second before he managed to unlock the door, swinging it open and stepping inside without looking at Brian, who followed him inside the store before he could even _think_ about locking him out.

“Would you please listen to me, Mikey?”

Michael tossed his keys onto the shop counter with a clatter, set his coffee cup aside. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered. Brian really wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did to hear him say that.

“Okay, I. Michael. I just wanna tell you that- " 

“That you’re sorry?” Michael yanked his scarf off and shrugged out of his coat, sounding as irritated as Brian had ever heard him. “Yeah, I got the message the first time. I have your blessing to continue living my pretend-hetero life. Thank you _so much_ for your approval. Now get the fuck outta here. I have a business to run.”

Brian took a deep breath to calm himself, stifling his impulse to lash out. He needed to be the level-headed one here. “I’m sorry for barging into your house that night,” Brian started, watching Michael sift through a stack of paperwork, frown glued to his face. “That was shitty of me. I shouldn’t have accused you of... of _converting_ Justin, either. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him, y’know, deciding not to settle for anything less than what he really wanted. I’m glad he did.”

Michael was still pretending he wasn’t listening, but Brian noticed his hand falter over the papers he was perusing. “And I know I’ve never been supportive of your, um. Your marriage, or your happy-family routine with the professor.” 

Michael scoffed a little, at this. _You’re damn right you haven’t_. 

“But that’s...” Brian rubbed at his temple wearily. “That’s because I’m scared, Michael.” 

Michael dropped his papers on the counter, looked up at him in confusion. He silently waited for him to continue.

“I’m scared,” Brian said, swallowing around a lump in this throat, “That you don’t need me anymore. That you’ve actually moved on. I was always so sure, before, that nobody else could ever mean more to each of us than we did to one another. Now, I’m... I look at you, and your husband and your son and the house you share, and I feel like a fucking idiot.” 

Michael started to walk up to him, but Brian stopped him with a hesitant palm in the air, his heartbeat escalating as he approached his final point. “Just, just wait. I have to say this now, or I never will.” He was breathing too heavily, watching Michael watch him with an alarmed look on his face. “I know you loved me,” Brian said in a strained voice, “That you were _in love_ with me for ages. I even knew it when we were kids, and I never said anything. I think I liked the idea of it. That you fuckin’ worshipped the ground I walked on.”

They winced simultaneously, and Brian swallowed again. “And I’m so sorry for giving you the impression that I... that we could ever...” 

“I know,” Michael interrupted quietly, a hint of sorrow in his voice. Brian’s heart practically twisted itself into a knot. Michael gave him a smile that was completely devoid of joy. “I know you’ll never feel the same way, Brian. It’s okay. It’s partly my fault for deluding myself. I wanted to believe it.”

Brian blinked rapidly. “Wait, so... Don’t tell me you still feel- " 

“No,” Michael answered abruptly. “No.” 

Brian nodded. “Good. Because I miss you. I don’t fucking care if we don’t have much in common anymore, okay?” 

Michael’s eyes looked suspiciously wet, all of a sudden. He leaned against the front of the counter and shut them, dark eyelashes against pale skin. “I’m sorry too,” he said, his voice quavery. “I said some really harsh things to you. I was fuckin’ lying. Our friendship is one of the most important things in my life, and as long as you still give half a shit about me, that’ll never change.”

Brian bridged the distance between them, went over to stand in front of Michael and touch his face gingerly, making him open his eyes. “Way more than half a shit,” Brian reassured him.

Michael’s hand came up to clutch at the front of Brian’s immaculately ironed dress shirt, twisting in the fabric. He gazed up at Brian, a tentative smile spreading across his face.

Brian wanted to kiss him. He really, _really_ wanted to kiss him. But he remembered what Ted had told him, and kept the impulse in check, the suppression of their usual level of physical connection hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Brian hugged him instead, Michael standing on his toes to hook his chin over Brian’s shoulder as they embraced. “I love you,” Michael whispered, and Brian bit his lip, the statement sending a little shock zigzagging through him in a way it never had before.

“Hey, Mikey.” 

“Hm?” 

Brian broke their embrace so he could look Michael in the eyes as he spoke. “Just to be totally clear, I think it’d be best if we stopped being so... tactile.”

Michael’s former frown made it back onto his face. “What do you mean?” 

Brian sighed. “It’s not fair to you, or to Ben, for me to put my hands all over you like I do. To kiss you like I do.” He monitored Michael’s reaction cautiously, watched his shoulders slump and his frown deepen.

“Ben’s always been okay with it,” Michael said, “He knows it’s just how we are.” 

Brian raised his eyebrows at him dubiously. “When did he tell you that? When you first started seeing each other?”

Michael started to form a retort, but Brian cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just, it gives people the wrong idea.” By _people_ , he mostly meant Michael. And he knew Michael understood that by the way he sagged against him, his forehead against Brian’s chest.

“I don’t want anything to change,” Michael said, tremulously.

Brian stroked a hand over his hair. “Everything’s already changed,” he said, his voice gentle. “We’re both different now.” 

“You’re not,” Michael said. “You’ll always be the same as you were when you were a teenager. Beautiful, and confident, and good at everything you do. Wanted by everyone, including your pathetic best friend.”

Brian’s breath caught in his throat. “Always?”

Michael raised his head, took a step back to look at him. He crossed his arms around himself protectively. “Always,” he agreed.

“Oh,” Brian breathed, his brow furrowing. “Maybe we shouldn’t... Maybe we’re better off if... "

“Please don’t say it,” Michael implored. “I need you in my life no matter what. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been dealing with my own shit for years.”

Brian wanted to touch him, but knew he shouldn’t after the admission Michael had just made.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Michael said, smiling wryly. “Like I’m unbelievably hopeless.” 

“You married Ben,” Brian said, needing to understand.

Michael averted his eyes. “He’s a good guy,” Michael said. “A really good guy. Better than I deserve.” 

“You deserve to be happy.” 

“I don’t. Because lately, I keep thinking that... " Michael grimaced. “That I made a mistake, rushing into it. That he’ll never measure up to... you.” Michael gave Brian a skittish glance, almost like he was making sure he was still standing there. “I’m a goddamn hypocrite, lecturing you about growing up and moving forward, when on the inside, I’m fuckin’ fourteen years old and obsessively in love with you. Something’s seriously wrong with me, Brian.”

 _Fuck it_.

Brian tipped Michael’s head up and brought their lips together, kissing him deeply. He’d meant for it to be a brief kiss, a way to silence Michael’s insecurities and tell him, _I love you anyway, you dumbass_ , but once he’d started, he didn’t want to stop. It was precisely the kind of kiss that Ted would have deemed inappropriate, hot and frantic and open-mouthed.

They needed to come up for air eventually, at which point Michael clung to him, trembling slightly. 

“Bri, I thought you said- " 

“Fuck what I said,” Brian growled, pushing Michael up against the counter and kissing down his neck, his hand trailing over Michael’s torso until it got to the button of his jeans. 

Michael gasped. “Hold on. Hold on, Brian.” 

Brian pulled back with a great deal of effort. “What is it?” 

“I need to know,” Michael said pausing to catch his breath, “That you aren’t just doing this because it’s what I want.” Brian stared at him a moment, then took Michael’s hand and guided it to his cock.

“Ah,” Michael uttered, stunned disbelief blooming in his eyes.

“That answer your question?” 

Michael laughed incredulously. “You’re such a... " 

“I know,” Brian said, and kissed him again. 

They ended up fucking right there in the store, the shutters still drawn and the door hastily locked from the inside, comics strewn across the floor from a display that they had knocked over in their careless movements. Brian couldn’t believe how incredibly good it was, wondered why he’d been so reluctant to instigate anything since that handjob they’d almost shared when they were kids. Fear that it would fuck up their friendship? The idea seemed laughable now. He felt drunk with fondness as he let his afterglow wash over him, limbs intertwined with Michael’s. They were both soaked in sweat, articles of clothing littering the ground around them, panting breaths evening out in unison. 

“Shit,” Michael groaned, “You’re late for work.”

Oh yeah, there was that quarterly business review with Brown Athletics today.

“They’ll be okay without me for a couple hours,” Brian said dismissively, propping himself up on his elbows and grinning down at Michael, touching his thumb to the corner of Michael’s mouth. 

Michael smiled up at him, so full of love and wonderment that it made Brian ache. He really couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner. 

The smile suddenly dropped off Michael’s face, a look of horror replacing it. “ _Shit_ ,” he said again.

Brian touched his cheek. “What? What’s wrong?”

Michael sat up, eyes wide. “How do I tell Ben?”

Brian relaxed. “Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Hey, it’s pretty scary to me!” 

Brian slung an arm over Michael’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple. “We can break it to him together, if you want.” 

“You know, somehow I think that’s a terrible fuckin’ idea.” 

“Ah c’mon, I can be mature about it,” Brian said, smirking. “I’ll save the graphic details of all the filthy, animalistic sex we’ll be having for after he’s had some time to grieve.” 

Michael shoved him lightly. “Fuck you.” 

“Tonight,” Brian promised, giving him one final kiss before he stood to collect his clothes. 

“Tonight?” Michael sounded bewildered. 

“I’ll fuck you again tonight,” Brian elaborated patiently, fishing his tie out of an open storage container. “No, I got that, it’s just... I thought there was some big event happening at Babylon tonight? I heard about it from Emmett.” 

“There’ll be other events.” Brian shrugged. He thought for half a second before adding, “And even then, I’d rather be with you. I always felt like a piece of me was missing when you weren’t out clubbing with me, anyway.”

Brian hated how vulnerable that confession made him feel. He focused on locating his second cufflink, which had evidently freed itself from his shirt when he’d torn it off.

Michael was speechless for a long moment, and when Brian turned to sneak a quick look at him, he was shocked to see tears streaming down his face.

“Christ, Mikey?” 

Brian tossed his tie aside and hurried back over to him, kneeling in front of him so that they were face to face. “What the hell’re you crying for? I was serious about talking to Ben with you if that’d be easier; I promise I won’t be a dick.” 

He wiped the tears off Michael’s face with his thumb, and Michael shook his head, suppressing a sob. “It’s not that,” he said in a choked voice.

Brian smoothed a comforting hand over his back. “Talk to me,” he coaxed. 

“It’s... You _are_ different,” Michael said. “Never in my dumbest fantasies would I have imagined that you’d blow off Babylon for me.” 

Brian breathed a sigh of relief. He laughed, pressing his forehead to Michael’s. “Well, hey,” Brian murmured, “We’re all getting old. It’s time I started focusing on the important things.” 

“Babylon’s important.” 

“It’s fucking meaningless if you’re not there with me.”

Michael tilted his head back to give Brian a watery smile, and Brian clicked his tongue. “So dramatic,” he grumbled good-naturedly. 

He got up to continue dressing himself, seeking out the clock to ascertain how much of his meeting was left to salvage when he got to the office. “C’mon, Mikey, don’t you have customers to serve?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Michael scrubbed at his eyes and stood up, sniffling a bit. 

“And I wanna hear about some of these dumb fantasies later, by the way,” Brian said, smiling to himself as he buttoned up his shirt. “Maybe we can bring them to life.” 

Michael made a sort of choking noise, the tips of his ears glowing red.

 _God_ , Brian thought, _I love him_. 

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing is severely underrated and I wish I felt more confident in my writing these days because they deserve sooo much more fic about their relationship. I'd wax poetic about it for pages on end if I could. I do plan to post at least a couple more fics about them eventually. No idea if anyone will read them, but that's okay!


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